Have you ever been situated quite comfortably in a couch-chair, allowing it to snuggly cradle you the way a velvet lined spoon would cradle a fabriga egg. Have you then, in the height of your bottom’s comfort, relaxed so well in your resplendent throne, released a really eggy fart? And then, chosen to remain situated, as it oozes up around your hips and between your thighs to sit on your lap, giving you the experience and smell of being a mall Santana and having a frightened child soil himself on you. And like that Santana, you just sit there. And take it. Trying to block it out. You are comfortable and all your other senses are pleased, in fact now you are cozy AND newly warmed. So you must simply ignored that one displeasure. That stinky sensation you are banking on going away of its own accord. This is the mentality of secluding yourself when depressed.
As an agoraphobe, full blown flavor, I empathize with the sentiment to be alone. But isolation can be detrimental to improvement. To climbing out of your hole. Go read any Emo’istic poetry. Or listen to/watch any music videos about depression (Down in a Hole is good listening. Or play any good survival horror game. All these artistic outlets meant to convey the negative emotions of depression hinge on a person being ALONE. I can list example after example of true or fictitious solitary induced sadness. Solitary confinement is even a psycologicaly based punishment. Nobobody puts me in a time out corner. But can you picture for me a depressed slumber party pillow fight?
I am not guaranteeing that all interaction is healthy. I am not guaranteeing anything actually. You must be fastidious and judicious in your selections of socialization. Talk to someone on here one on one. Start a Words with Friends game and open the chat feature. Tell someone a joke. Talk to strangers. Talk to family. Talk to me. …Maybe not that last one…
But above all, get out of that smelly chair, out of that La-Z boy comfort zone. Because in the closet, in your room, in a hole, there is only you. And your thoughts. And when they turn against you, when they become rapacious wolves with saliva dripping mouths agape, blood thirsty for your soul, is that really the only company you want? Here is a video beautifully portaying my point. In honor of the British invasion here 50 years ago. Let someone invade your space. Could be nice. Could start a revolution.
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Hmm, someone would have to find me worth talking to, and that’s next to impossible considering. On that note, anyone can choose to drop the useless link and socialize with people more apt at socialization.
It’s the only company I get.
@Poisontongue being worth talking to is partily on you and partily on whomever. Just talk. To any person. You have the internet and it is full of people. Keep trying until you find someone who clicks with you, like two gears meshing, then rotating together. In fact sometimes two gears are a perfect fit, they just have to keep rotating and jiving until they slip until place and develop a good groove. Conversation is an art. And like most art it is about feeling and putting yourself onto a page.
I wish I could. Like, if my brain would cooperate.
How do I fail so completely? It’s a wonder of science. I found maybe one person who could stand me for longer than a second and they vanish once they’ve got their own life to think about. There really is no success for someone who eked an existence out of being invisible.
Self fulfilling prophecy. If you think you cannot paint a picture, you wont be able to. Similarly, if you are always thinking how unpleasant it must be to talk to you, it will in fact be unpleasant to talk to you. A person will almost hear an apology after each statement. Your apology for bothering them. And what possible stirring quips or witticism or conversation starters will you be able to dream up if all your brain cells are thinking the person is just waiting to bolt.
But I can’t. I can’t explain how little my brain cells have to contribute. How little I can even think anymore, and still it doesn’t matter. Talking in real life is like pulling teeth, but on the Internet it has never been much better. And it’s never worked in either domain. Few begin, but nothing lasts. How is it I disappear from places and no one notices?
Someone who can’t talk ain’t worth a dime in this word.
How can no one notice? Like you said, you do not make much noise. Not to be harsh, but it is like a rock band. If you turn your instrument down and only play a few, unmemorable notes, no one will notice your absence on the next album.
The only way I’d notice is if I go in throwing grenades. Making lots of mistakes in the process, turning things upside down until I’ve got egg all over my face. Unfortunately, unmemorable is my middle name.
I understand people who want to make noise when they die.
I meant in life and in general, Poison. Play the armpit. Play the cowbell. Play the guitar with a trained spider. March to the beat of you as drummer. Someone WILL hear you and like your music. For proof, look at Anal ****. That band has fans….
It’s even worse for me in life than it is on the Internet, where I can’t even talk to my counselor in complete sentences because my brain is a worthless, festering pit of nothing.
I wouldn’t even know where to go to find people willing to give me the time of day, now. Not that there are any worthwhile groups around here, but they’d have to be incredibly patient and why would anyone bother when they’ve got lives of their own? I am… voiceless.
Everyone leaves, eventually. That’s all that I’ve learned. Without anything to offer, what’s the appeal?
You keep referring to your brain. Do you have some form of mental handicap or mental diagnosis? Those impairments aside, the only one who can give you a voice is you. You are clearly capable of a back and forth. And why would anyone bother? For the same reason you should: companionship. Connection. I cannot guarantee the first or 22 try will be winners. What I can tell you is it is worth trying. Why? Because what you are doing is not working. You are unhappy. So, let’s try, yeah? Pick something you have an opinion about and vomit that opinion at people until someone vomits one bavk. Then boom. You have got yourself a throw up party. Also known as a conversation.
It hasn’t worked out in any official capacity (mostly no one knowing a hell of a lot about the truth), but… it’s there, and I at least know a part of it for certain. And it seems to have destroyed me over time, my ability to speak like a normal person or even think like I used to. Not to mention having no social skills or anything of the sort to pass off as a functioning member of society. So I am barely capable of a back and forth even online… I only follow along.
I vomit at people on Facebook sometimes… it’s good for starting fights. No one cares unless they’ve got a reason to fight. Companionship and connection are things I think I’m desperate for… but if it were possible, maybe I wouldn’t feel quite so hopeless.
It’s hopeless. Some people must be destined to be alone because trying can never be good enough, no matter what… loneliness is destiny, purposelessness is… disability is the point of no return. No one can possibly abide by me.
The weekends are worst of all. So tired…